The Musician In The Grass
by Parody-lover
Summary: Sequel to The Sexist In The Tree. Chronicling the lives and deaths of TDI contestants 15 years in the future. Based on Bones episode Bridgette/Geoff slight Trent/Gwen kinda SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR AMERICAN nothing big though
1. Chapter 1

Yes, here it is, that thing that I have been saying that I will be putting up is finally here! First off I'll like to say thanks to all those who'd been reviewing my fics, hugs for all of you! Secondly, do not worry, I'll be trying to update more, as my summer course is ending very soon.

This is a bit of a sequel to The Sexist In The Tree, but you don't really need to read that in order to understand this one, though it might give you a better understanding of the 'big picture" of the main characters.

Disclaimer: I don't own TDI, Bones, or any of the songs that may appear in this fic, all those belong to their rightful owners.

--

"_She's not afraid, she just likes to use a nightlight, when she gets paid, true religion gets it all, if they fit right…"_

The soft lyrics of that song was practically floating around the room during the Checker Box's weekly open mike night, as multitudes of people (mostly young women) crowded near the stage of the bar and grill as the singer continued his crooning. Jet black hair, emerald green eyes and a voice that could lull a beastly giant to sleep, yes siree that was Trent Hannigan in all his talented glory.

"_Like everyone else she's in over her head, dreads feds, Grateful Dead and doesn't take meds…"_

His voice, even if there wasn't the mic would be heard throughout the whole bar, from the giggling young ladies in the front, to the usual, not so fan girlish patrons sitting farther out, all the way to the back, where the people there were just coming in for a drink to ease their daily troubles away, (unfortunately one or more usually end up at the police station later in the night.) There, in one of the booths, sat a slightly short women, a private detective with brown hair and glasses. As she chugged down a drink just put down by a waitress, she was listening intently while her eyes concentrated on the Solitaire game in front of her.

"_Her eyes, that's where hope lies, that's where blue skies, meet the sunrise, her eyes, that's where I go, when I go home…"_

The detective's name was Beth, and while she looked like she was all focused on her card game (such a thrilling game, that Solitaire) she noticed a few things out of the corner of her eyes, one of them being a young, blond women blowing a kiss to Trent, while the man that sat beside her was fuming.

The song was done, and Trent stepped off the platform while the people (again, mostly women) applauded. An old, balding man came up, the owner of the Checker Box.

"And that was Trent Hannigan, ladies and gentleman our regular for the Checker Box's open night club. Let's also give a he thanks to Barney, our pianist…"

The owner talked for a while as Trent walked down, passing the women who had given him the air kiss.

"That was great, Trent, I'm sure you impressed that talent scout over there." she commented, flashing her eyelashes at him.

His reply was indifferent, "Gee, thanks." The women got up to go get another drink, leaving Trent enough room to sneak in to a chair at a nearby table, he was stopped for a moment though, by the guy who was fuming earlier.

"You knew that was my song Hannigan, I was saving it for the night the talent scout was here."

"Technically, it's not your song if you didn't write it or sing it originally," he replied smugly as he waved to a man in a suit across the room, the talent scout.

"You know Hannigan one day I'll…"

"Would you guys settle down? I'm trying to concentrate and this isn't helping!" The comment came from a woman, busily tuning her guitar, beside them.

"Now ladies and gentleman, give a warm welcome to another Checker Box regular, the spirited, spiritual, singer, Jacqueline Ryalls!" The woman who was telling the others to be quiet sat up and headed for the stage, a little nervousness in her eyes.

"Thank you Tom," she spoke to the owner and the introducer, "I'll like to perform a little song that I wrote myself, and I hope you enjoy it. It's called "Let It Out'" She started to strum her guitar which stared belting out a beautiful melody.

"_Just sleep, It will, be okay in the morning It doesn't matter what you dream, 'Cause it will be okay, in the morning It's okay, Just, sleep."_

As Jacqueline continued singing, Beth in the booth was starting to get frustrated with her Solitaire game (she wasn't the best at single player card games) and had been cheating for a while now.

"_Just wake up, Let, the sunshine kiss you good morning. It doesn't matter what you drink, Because it will be alright Yeah, it'll be alright"_

However, while she stunk at Solitaire, she was great at noticing minute details around her, such as the flirting women who was now striking up a conversation with Trent, the threatening man next to her who was staring daggers at Trent, and Jacqueline, who while had a calm composure, 

had a look in her eyes that revealed her slight annoyance at the distraction and small irritation that was Trent's talking during her performance.

"_Oh-Ooh-Oh, Oh-Ooh-Oh, Yeah Let it out, Let it out, Let it out 'Cause that's what makes the world go 'round." _

Beth decided to call it a night, paid her bill (well she actually told the waitress to put it on her ever expanding tab) and left with a single thought in her mind: _The singing's not going to be the main attraction tonight._

--

"God, look at how tall this grass is, I think it's up to my knees!" FBI Special Agent Geoff Murdock said as he trudged along the incredibly grassy field. It was nighttime and he was tailing behind blue, jumpsuit clad forensic anthropologist Dr. Bridgette Dodson, and crime scene investigator Sarah O'Riley, their path lit by a few large flashlights.

"Johnson's Field is pretty barren, not a lot of visitors, so to cut budgets we don't mow it as often as we do with other places, a young government worker said, clad in gloves, orange jumpsuit with reflective tapes and a blue baseball cap covering his thick, messy blond hair, "It was the crunching that got my attention, I stopped immediately after I heard it, and cleared the grass around that area manually with the knife to see what it was. Believe me, I did not expect what I found." The group reached their destination: a police taped area with giant headlights flashing down on a single spot. There, where the grass was roughly uprooted for better visual lay a mangled, bloody corpse, well, maybe corpse wasn't that good a word wince the only flesh left was just the steak thick soft tissue surrounding the skeleton.

"Whoa," was all Geoff could say as the two ladies crotched down near the body.

"By the looks of it, male, early thirties or late twenties, body dumped a good two weeks ago I predict," Bridgette said, flashing a small flashlight on it, "though I can't be too sure, with this much grass and wildlife there may have been more animals and insects than usual to chow down on this guy," that comment was directed at Geoff, and she had emphasized the term _chow down_ to see if it might make him squirm.

It did slightly. "Okay, first off, never use chow down when we're at a crime scene, and second, Sarah, do you have anything?"

Sarah lips curved upward, her long orange hair swaying slightly, "If literally, do I have anything, then yes, I have a lot of things, if you meant did I find anything useful to the investigation, not so much. This grass covers a lot of tracks and the length of time this body's been here does not help either."

"Anyone saw a head?" Bridgette asked suddenly.

Geoff's eyes widened considerably, "wait, you mean a head's missing?"

"Well, I can't find it at the top of the neck, that's for sure."

"Well he had to of had a head before, since there's brain matter over here," Sarah joked morbidly flashing a light on the ground, nobody really bothered to look.

_What is with the O'Riley siblings and joking about the weirdest things_ Geoff thought, internally contemplating who would be better to take to a crime scene: quick-witted, take charge, but short tempered voice of reason Sarah, or her brother: eccentric, plan hatching, but tactless and slightly cowardly walking encyclopedia Peyton. Right now the winning choice was neither. His partner, on the other hand was being much more productive, combing out the area for a head. She stopped at the driving grass mower and, acting on a suspicion craned her neck to see the underside of the mower through the grill.

"Found it," she said triumphantly, as Sarah, Geoff and the worker craned their necks to follow her line of sight. Geoff let out a low whistle while the worker spoke first.

"My girlfriend is totally not gonna believe this!"

"Well, the blade might explain the brain matter," Sarah said as she shined her light on the head, maggots in its eye socket and ants crawling up the fleshy skull.

--

"Now this is a fancy watch," Sarah said, holding up a smashed watch in an evidence bag, "not only does it tell time, it also measures pulse and breathing, Along with the defined muscle structure, this guy was an athlete."

"Ugh, I don't know why anyone would want a watch like that while they're exercising, the last thing I need is a machine to tell me I'm overweight," Peyton commented, "I already have you telling me that!" To avoid getting whacked in the arm he bounded down the platform, "I'll see if they identified this guy yet."

"Bone structure and tissue markers gave me a slight idea as to how this person looked," forensic artist Maurecia Lee stated, swiping her ID into slot and clambering onto to platform of the Jeffersonian, "I'll have to say, by the looks of it," she pulled up her artist rendering on the computer, "he definitely was a pretty boy."

"Well, he definitely isn't now," Sarah remarked, eyeing the remains on the examination table, she grimaced and continued, "stomach contents, or what was left of the stomach, showed trances of cough syrup and medicine, plus I found an old cough drop in the victim's throat."

"Must've been one heck of a cold for him to end up like that," Maurecia commented. Suddenly she noticed something shimmering under the lights, 'hey, look at this," she pointed at the hand of the victim, "it looks like a wedding ring."

"Perfect, now we know our victim was a young, handsome, athletic married man. Lucky wife."

"Not so lucky anymore," Geoff said, following Bridgette up the platform, "we have an identity yet?"

""Well I do have an artist sketch, I think I'm pretty accurate," Maurecia said, showing the two her drawing. Bridgette immediately blanched at the sight of it, Geoff quickly took notice.

"Bridge, you okay?" he asked, concerned, "is it someone you know?"

Bridgette took a moment to compose herself again, "I'm not sure Geoff, but that person look an awful lot like Trent."

"What?" He quickly inspected the picture at a closer perspective. It did, indeed look an awful lot like Trent, granted he had fifteen years to age, but still… "Do you really think it's…"

"Trent?" Peyton answered sadly, "I hate to break it too you but odontology found a match." He typed into the computer, and a picture of thirty-one year old Trent came up beside the sketch which looked eerily the same. "He was reported missing two week s ago."

"My god…" Bridgette said, Geoff gently lowered her into a chair. Ezekiel was one thing, but they knew Trent a whole lot longer and shared a deeper friendship.

"And here's the kicker," Peyton started again.

"You don't think that the fact that Trent's the one on the examination table is already a kicker?" Geoff said slightly offended, Peyton had an annoying knack at being unintentionally insensitive.

Peyton sighed, gently tossing a file on a nearby desk. He pointed to Trent's finger, "Guess who he was married to."

By the way he had asked, Bridgette and Geoff had a slight feeling as to who it was, and it is was indeed her, they would not be looking forward to being the bearer of bad news even more than usual.

"Who?" Bridgette ventured finally.

Out of Peyton's mouth came a single syllable.

"Gwen."

--

So now I guess you guys are gonna throw bricks at me aren't you? (ducks quickly) Look at it this way, Trent and Gwen had at the most a happy nine year marriage (okay, even I'm shocked at how small that time is. Ducks again.) Still, I like this fic a bit better than The Sexist In The Tree, and I have the whole thing planned out: more drama, more mystery, more comedy, just a whole lot of more!

Out of curiousity and randomness, how many of you've been to Comic Con 2008? I always want to go but I can't and this year seems extra interesting, a lot of films and shows I'm dying to see are there for panels and interviews.

Oh, and who can guess the song Trent sings in the beginning? It's going to reappear at the end of the story!

Finally I'll like to thank Jacqueline229 (of Deviantart) for guest appearing in this fic and letting me borrow a song. The song, Let It Out was actually written by her, Go check out her work, it's amazing!

You know what to do with the review button...


	2. Chapter 2

I came, I saw, and I wrote…this new chapter. Yep here's a good ole helping of update for yeah, on the house. Thanks to those who have reviewed, hugs to all of you.

--

Part 2

AN:I know it might be a bit boring in the beginning since they're finding evidence and all but please stick around…I think you'll be VERY shocked at the end of this chapter. Evil smirk.

The drive to the Hannigans (well one Hannigan now) was silent. The busy traffic noise outside the moving SUV was almost deafening as it sliced through the thick silence inside. Amazing how the usual joking, fun atmosphere of the interior of the car was drastically changed, while outside everything continued to go on as if nothing happened.

Geoff, who deep down was still the fun-loving party guy, found the stillness awkward, and tried to start up a conversation with an unusually quiet Bridgette, who was busy looking out her passenger seat window, forehead pressed against the glass. He desperately wanted them to start talking, about anything really, even an argument _a debate_ he corrected himself, about the environmental effects of FBI issued SUVs would be nice.

"So…"Geoff began, already mentally hitting himself for starting like that. Honestly, he didn't know what to say.

It was a good thing that wasn't the case with Bridgette, "what are we going to do Geoff, go up to Gwen and say, 'hey Gwen, remember us, it's Geoff and Bridgette from TDI. Listen, we just found Trent's body. Turns out he was murdered brutally'?" Her fake sarcastic cheeriness in saying it scared Geoff a bit. Still she had posed an important question, what were they going to say? Usually, according to protocol, they would just gently tell them what has happened along with a 'we're very deeply sorry' and 'don't worry, we're doing the best we can to find out his murderer.' But he highly doubted that over-used Hallmark sympathies would do the trick here.

"Listen, I know Gwen was your friend on the island, if you don't feel right saying it, I could do it myself," Geoff hated seeing Bridgette all down like this, it just wasn't her.

"No, no, it's fine," she heaved a sigh, "I say we should just gently but bluntly tell her, no use beating around the bush, right?" She was uncertain, that's for sure.

--

"Let's see, loft number 2B. Bridge, you sure you want to go through with this, you could go back to the car…"

"No it's fine Geoff, let's just ring the doorbell and get it over with."

"Are you sure? Cause…"

"Geoff, just ring the doorbell already!" She hadn't meant to be so snappy but Geoff chose to ignore it and did what she had (rudely) asked him to do. The duo spent a few moments standing in a hallway. Soon the door opened revealing a woman who looked like she could use a couple of good nights' sleep.

"Do I know you?" She asked, a hint of recognition in her voice. Her skin was less pale now, though her hair was still the same black and bluish green. Her eyes however had lost its witty look and screamed out a few adjectives such as tired, worried, and apprehensive.

"Gwen, it's us…Geoff and Bridgette…from TDI," Bridgette started calmly. On any other occasion, Geoff would've already flashed his FBI badge, but this was no ordinary occasion.

"Bridgette? Geoff? Wow, I don't believe…, I haven't seen you guys in years. Uh, come on in," Gwen said shaking her head slightly to relieve the fatigue and surprise slightly. "You want me to get anything, a drink or something?"

"No thanks Gwen, let's just have a seat," Geoff said. Looking around, the loft was pretty fancy, complete with a grand piano on a slightly raised platform, a large window wall, lots of bright colours reflected via the bright sunshine. _Ironic, _Geoff grimly thought. Off to a corner were a few sculptures and paintings, as well as art supplies.

"So I guess you're a professional artist, huh?" Bridgette said surveying her work.

"Yeah, I have a gallery opening in a few weeks, I've also started sculpting. Expand my repertoire, you know?" Sadness washed over her features, "It was supposed to start earlier, but I postponed it, after, you know, with…Trent." Tears were started to well in her eyes.

Now came the hard part. Bridgette's and Geoff's eyes shifted to look at each other, and then back to Gwen. "That's kind of what we're here for," Geoff took out his FBI badge, "I work for the FBI and Bridgette here is a forensic anthropologist…"

"The FBI and a Forensic…oh my god, you mean…" Gwen's eyes were like dams just bursting to break.

Not sure what to say, Geoff used an old fallback statement, "we're deeply sorry." He mentally slapped himself for the second time of that morning.

"A government worker found his…body, at Johnson's Field late last night, and we have reason to believe he was…murdered," Bridgette continued, having an odd thought that butchering the sentence into smaller parts might make it easier to digest.

The crime-solving duo could've sworn time stopped for a moment before Gwen replied, "Murdered? But why, would anyone…"

"We don't know, that's why we're here," Geoff said, but quickly added, "that and because we just wanted to let you know what happened and to say, we're sorry." There was a very long awkward pause again.

"Tissue?" asked Geoff helplessly to a sobering Gwen. Bridgette, who was debating in her mind whether or not to hit Geoff for saying that spoke up again.

"Listen, I know this is a hard time for you. We know you guys were close and trust me, I'll find out who did this Gwen. Umm, would you like to stay a few days with me, during this case, you know for company and…stuff," for once the usually well-educated Bridgette was at a lost for words. _Great, I'm using words from a six-year-old's vocab list when dealing with my grieving friend_.

Gwen heaved a sigh, calming herself down, and looked towards her unfinished sculpture, but seemingly staring at some place beyond it, "I guess you're right; I don't think I can concentrate on my work right now. It might be good to clear my head." The words came out slow, monotone even.

Geoff cleared his throat loudly, "well, then it's settled. Um, Gwen I know this is rough time, but I have to ask, is there anyone you know that was with Trent during his, ah, final hours?"

Her face hardened, her mind reeling back to a time and place that seemed so long ago, so unreal, a mirage in a flat barren wasteland. Suddenly, as if it were a sign, the strumming of an electric guitar ran through the halls.

"That's Jacqueline Ryalls, she lives in the loft across from us. She participates in the Checker Box Bar and Grill's weekly Open Mike Night, so does Trent. That was the night he went…missing."

"Then obviously we're going to have to give Miss Ryalls a visit. Why don't you start packing and I'll drive you over to Bridge's place tonight, maybe we can grab dinner together." Geoff suggested.

"Sure," the two investigators proceeded to move towards the door, until Bridgette remembered something.

"Gwen, did Trent have a cold before he went missing?"

"Uh yes, nothing serious, just a bit of a sore throat. And guys…thanks, for…everything," Gwen silently went into a nearby room, presumably to pack. Geoff and Bridgette smiled (despite the situation) and let themselves out.

"Now when you meant dinner together you meant Gwen, you and me right?" Bridgette asked her partner as soon as they were outside.

"Of course…what? You think I was asking her on a date, even I'm not that cold Bridge," his slightly offended attitude changed though as something clicked in his head, with a smirk he continued, "you were jealous, weren't you?"

"I don't think now's a good time to be talking about this," Bridgette replied, about to ring the doorbell, but Geoff interrupted her.

"Ah! You're avoiding the subject, which means you were jealous…"he replied, giddy as a child with his first crush.

"I admit, when we were sixteen and I saw you with Gwen in that handcuffs challenge while I was at the resort, I was _a bit _jealous but we are friends now, so use your observation skills to help solve a friend's murder alright."

The door opened _Thank God,_ thought Bridgette, as Jacqueline Ryalls looked at them curiously.

"Can I help you?"

Geoff flipped open his badge, "Special Agent Geoff Murdock, FBI, this here is my partner Dr. Bridgette Dodson from the Jeffersonian, can we come in?" It was game time, when fun went out the window and was replaced by seriousness.

Jacqueline stared at them for a while before allowing some room for them to enter.

"Ms. Ryalls, do you happen to know a Trent Hannigan?"

"Yes, he's my next door neighbor, a good friend, went missing a few weeks ago, real tragic. I brought cookies to his wife Gwen, you know cheer her up, try to get the creative juices flowing for her gallery opening. Why? Did you find him?"

"If by him you mean his body then yes. Trent was murdered, Ms Ryalls, and according to his wife, you're the most likely candidate for the last person to see him before he went missing."

The woman was silent for a moment, whether to let the news sink in or to contemplate what to say next, they weren't sure.

"Wow, Trent's dead? Just…wow, though I do get why you people think I saw him last. I'm sure Gwen told you all about the Open Mike Night at the Checker Box…"

"Everything but the details, Ms. Ryalls, so would you care to tell them to us?" Geoff said, leaning forward on his seat at the couch.

Jacqueline readjusted her position in her chair, and leaned backwards, "Okay, don't tell Gwen this, cause it just might break her heart even more…"

Both Bridgette and Geoff cocked an eyebrow, and leaned forward even more, almost to the point of falling off their chairs.

"Trent had a lot of, let's say, rivals at the club. I mean, overall he's a great guy, he certainly doesn't complain when I play my guitar here. But you know that saying, "hunger for fame and fortune can change a guy" or something like that? Well, occasionally there are talent scouts at the club and that's when things get really nasty. The night Trent disappeared, he 'stole' this song another guy was going to sing." She even used air quotes for the word stole, "Real piece of work that guy, Eddie West, gets my vote for Creep of the Year. So anyways, after Trent finished singing Eddie comes along and ruffs him up a bit, course, I was going up next so I shushed them. Those two were staring daggers at each others eyes during my entire performance. Afterwards they start pushing each other and the manager tells them to take it outside. My God…you don't think…"

Geoff knit his eyebrows together in confusion, "so you think that Eddie killed Trent because he sang a song that he was gonna sing? Kinda a weak motive, don't ya think?"

"Not really," Bridgette said, "human behavior is highly influenced by society around us, and like it or not, people who are extremely talented, or have great looks are elevated by society, leaving human beings with a need to be able to come up on top. While not really rational, it's completely understandable that Mr. West saw Trent as a threat to him."

"Thank you Dr. Phil, but killing some guy over a song? That's just ridiculous."

It looked as if Bridgette was about to give another speech in response to his comment but Jacqueline decided to continue, "Well, there was this incident with Eddie's girlfriend."

Geoff perked his head up, "wait, girlfriend?"

Jacqueline hesitated, "You see, Eddie had this girlfriend, blonde gal by the name of Tracy. While I know Trent would never cheat on Gwen and that he loves her very much, even the most dedicated guys get a little flirtatious you know? So Trent and Tracy talk sometimes, admittedly during people's performances which is pretty annoying…but I digress. Anyways so like I said, Trent might flirt with Tracy sometimes but no real harm, until that night of the disappearance of course," she paused, a look of unease etched in her face, "okay, this part you really can't tell Gwen, after what I saw in those TDI reruns…I don't think she can take it."

"Don't worry, we have a bit of a case confidentiality rule at the FBI.'

"Okay then, well I guess Tracy didn't know Trent was married and well…after my performance, she planted one on him, okay?"

That was defiantly not something the two were expecting, "wait, so Trent kissed another woman? That jerk!"

"Talking about a dead friend here, Bridge, don't curse him from beyond the grave," Geoff said, a little surprised at the outburst, "so Trent kissed Tracy?"

"Oh no, no, no, Tracy kissed Trent, I mean, I don't blame you I first thought Trent was the one who kissed the girl when I first saw them, but later I heard from the backstage sound crew that Tracy started it. Either way Eddie saw it and was just fuming, since that night I haven't seen Trent since and Eddie didn't come back to the club until a week after." She stopped obviously with no more to say.

"Well thanks for the help Miss. Ryalls," Geoff, stood up, quickly followed by Bridgette, "if you remember anything else just call the bureau and ask for me okay?"

"Sure thing, and I hope you catch the bastard who did this, Gwen already has enough trouble in her life."

--

Meanwhile back at the Jeffersonian, Sarah and Peyton were looking over the remains, magnifying certain parts to see if there were any evidence, it was a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

"Hey Sarah, check this out," Peyton said as he held up the detached part of the spine around the throat area, "there seems to be a wafer thin shaving of bone on the C-5 vertebrae."

"What, like cheese having gone through a slicer? So the Mr. Hannigan's throat was slit."

Peyton beamed, "precisely, though I don't think a cheese slicer was the weapon, it had to be very thin in order to create such a minute shave."

Maurecia walked by, phone in hand, "great you guys found the cause of death."

Peyton scowled, "what with this _you guys_? I'm the one who found it out, Sarah was too busy comparing possible murder weapons to cheese cutlery."

"Whatever, since you figured it out then you tell the Doc, I'm calling her to give an update on this Eddie West guy, turns out he runs the butcher shop between Main and Oak."

"A butcher? Now there's someone who isn't afraid of handling raw flesh," Sarah remarked.

"Great, now you've just turned me off meat for the next week or so," Peyton said, followed by a mumble that sound like, "first the circus, now this."

"At least Dr. Dodson will be happen you won't be eating cute little animals."

--

"Ugh, I hate the smell of a butcher shop," Bridgette said, entering West's Meat Emporium, a small ting coming from the little bell attached near the door.

"You deal with rotting corpses all day and the smell of a butcher shop is what gets to you?" Geoff asked incredulously, moving up to the counter and ringing the service bell.

Bridgett gave off an undignified stare, "there's a fine line between handling dead animals and chopping them up with no remorse, that's why I became a vegetarian." Seeing as no one had come to the counter yet she too rang the service bell, "You should consider becoming a vegetarian, it's a healthy and environmentally friendly life choice."

"What? And lose all these muscles from iron deficiency? I don't think so," Geoff struck a pose, exaggeratingly showing off his muscles. Bridgette had to laugh at how silly he looked, this is what she liked about him, no matter how serious things got he still found a way to make her smile.

Geoff stopped posing, and smiled back, suddenly a scruffy young man with ruffled hair appears, Eddie West.

"Can I help you?"

"You Eddie West?" asked Geoff.

"Yeah"

Geoff flashed his badge, "I'm Special Agent Geoff Murdock and this is my partner Dr. Bridgette Dodson, Mr. West we'll like you to come with us to answer a few questions about the murder of a Trent Hannigan."

Eddie's eyes turned to the size of saucers, "wait, Hannigan? Murdered? You suspect me of murder?"

"Yeah, murder," Bridgette replied, resting an arm on the counter and leaning slightly onto it, like one of those old fashioned movie detectives.

--

"So where do you want these boxes?" Gwen asked as she moved some of her stuff into Bridgette's condo, she looked around, taking in the paintings, surfing trophies and strange looking artifacts.

Bridgette threw her overcoat onto a nearby couch, revealing her black pants and black sweater which covered her white shirt. She pointed to am empty corner of the room, "if its art supplies you can put it over there, you can work on your paintings and sculptures there. I myself never 

found much use for that area. Your clothes and personal stuff can go in the guest room, down the hall, first door on the right."

The dinner had been an interesting one…if interesting was a new synonym for awkward, while Trent's death was not spoken about, a suffocating unease hung around for the entire evening. Geoff was supposed to help move some things, but had to go back to the Bureau to complete some paperwork on the case. So now, it was just the two women, and the atmosphere was a bit more lighthearted.

Now that all the boxes were inside the condo Bridgette poured some drinks for her and Gwen.

"We're getting really close to finding out who did it Gwen," Bridgette said, not being able to hold it all in anymore.

"I'll just be glad when we can finally have a proper funeral for him. I'm sure you'll be able to finally give Trent and everyone some peace of mind. You and Geoff are the best homicide investigators there are, I'm surprised you guys aren't dating." Bridgette nearly choked on her drink. _We're talking abut murder and people still find a way to link it back to our relationship._

"Things change, Gwen." _Oh like you haven't used that line before Bridge, great comeback._

Gwen was silent for a minute, looking around the place from where she was sitting; she spotted something resting on a shelf: a heart shaped change bowl.

"He talked about you, you know."

Bridgette paused, her glass stopping mid way to her lips, "what?"

Gwen continued, "Geoff, he talked about you…during the handcuff challenge on TDI. The editors cut it out so it never was shown to the public, but he loved talking about you. Said you were the sweetest, most determined and gentle girl he'd ever met. And I know that he still thinks so to this day, by the way he looks at you, just like how Trent used to look at me." Her eyes glistened, tears almost on the verge of coming again.

For once, Bridgette was speechless, "I…"

Gwen smiled, something Bridgette hadn't seen her do for a while, 'And I think you still love him too, I still the way 'talk' to each other through your eyes, and how your face seems to brighten up every time he looks at you. Don't try and deny it Bridgette, and treasure what time you two have together, take it from me, I know..." With that, she finished her drink and stood up, "I'm going to take a shower. Bathroom's on the left right?" Bridgette merely nodded.

As Gwen left, Bridgette drank the rest of her drink, pondering about what her friend had said. She tapped her fingers on the table, staccato tapping on polished wood, ringing throughout the 

condo. The distant sound of running water from the bathroom was the only other sound. That and the drops of water coming from the sink Gwen used to rinse her glass.

_Drip drop. Drip drop. You still. Love him._

_Great, you know you're crazy when you think your leaky faucet is talking to you, _Bridgette thought. A sudden shrill ringing snapped her out of her thoughts, and the glass in a surprised Bridgette's hand nearly had a first hand flying lesson. Luckily her clumsiness didn't go into full throttle and she managed to catch it before it crashed on the table. Heaving a sigh of relief, she went over to her phone, the source of said ringing.

"Dodson."

"Figured out who punched Trent's ticket yet, Doc?"

"Beth, I'm surprised you didn't break into my office to find all the details yourself."

"I've been busy."

"Family matters, or your usual illegal investigations?"

"Ha ha, you're a real clown, Bridgette. So, are you going to tell me about what you found out or am I going to have to do a little extra work?"

Bridgette relented, "Fine, we did have a suspect, Eddie West. Motive was pretty clear: jealousy and the fact that his girlfriend kissed Trent. We took him in for questioning, but turns out he and his girlfriend 'mutually' agreed to break up."

"Because of the kiss?"

"That, as well as, and I quote 'irreconcilable interests." Also he told us that after the manager shooed him and Trent out they went their separate ways, according to him, he visited his friends, arriving a little sooner than ten o'clock. His alibi checked out unfortunately for us."

"What about the girlfriend? Got to have been fuming about the fact that she was chasing after a married man."

"Tracy Daniels, we're questioning her tomorrow. We found her, but she said that no words will be coming out of her lips without a lawyer present."

"And they say blondes are dumb…"

"Hey, I'm a blonde and I have multiple PhDs," Bridgette said. Suddenly she realized something. "Wait, how do you know that Tracy's a blonde?"

"Let's just say I had a nice viewing of Trent's last kiss."

"You know I could take you in for questioning because you were I witness, Beth," Bridgette said, no traces of joking in her voice.

"Actually you can't. You're just a scientist, Geoff's the one who can legally single handedly arrest me."

"Is that why you always visit me and not Geoff?"

"Maybe, also I just like your apartment better overall. Bit more cozy, nice décor, and great ambience. Just don't like the walls though."

"Well I hate to brag but my condo is a bit more expensi- what is wrong with my walls?" Bridgette asked.

Beth shrugged, though Bridgette couldn't see her, "Eh, it's the colour, I don't like it. I mean it's not red but it's not orange either..." she paused, the conversation was now bordering on ridiculous. "You know what? Just forget about it, what's Trent COD?"

"His throat was slit by a very fine instrument." Bridgette answered. Suddenly she noticed something in Gwen's art supplies box. Taking out a tissue, she walked over and picked up the thing that had caught her interest.

"Beth?" Bridgette asked, almost not daring to breath.

"Yeah?"

"Am I a terrible person for suspecting one of my oldest friends of murdering her husband?"

--

Dun Dun Dun! Yes, I know, you must all want to throw things at me now. I TOLD YOU THINGS WOULD GET MORE DRAMATIC!

I'll try not to leave you guys hanging over a cliff too long but school's coming so you never know.

Speaking of school help this poor dunce learn math by reviewing, and said dunce will learn how to count via how many reviews are received!


	3. Chapter 3

So this is it, the third chapter of my story, hope you enjoy it, this one will be a bit longer than the Sexist In The Tree, but not much.

Also, for those of you who also read my other fics, don't worry, I'll update them sooner or later. Let's just say they're on a small HIATUS FOR NOW, but they will be updated so please don't burn down my house. I am also working on the next chapter of Totally Dramatic Rat Race, but will be more so focusing on this series since I have a Christmas one planned that needs to be on schedule.

--

"Gwen's clay cutting wire could definitely be the murder weapon." Those were the words spoken by Bridgette the next day at the Jeffersonian. Her colleagues were crowded around her as she slowly, but surely, sliced a block of cheese into two pieces with a wire.

"Because it cut the cheese?" joked Geoff, every guy in the room proceeded to snicker.

Bridgette rolled her eyes, "No, Mr. Funny Man, because the small shaving on Trent's C5 matches the wound created by the wire."

"Impressive," Peyton remarked, "so did you bring the actual wire to swab for blood?"

"Of course not!"

Peyton, for one, was shocked at the answer. "And why not? We're looking for a murderer here!"

"Because, one: I need a warrant to test the wire or it'll be considered illegal evidence and two: what was I going to say? 'Hey Gwen, I think you killed the man who you loved with all your heart?'" Bridgette had spent the rest of last night avoiding Gwen and had snuck out early that morning.

"Well, you could've e-mailed her," suggested Peyton.

"Peyton, that is the stupidest…"

"Okay, break it up you two," Geoff said, he turned to face Bridgette, "there's one small problem here though, Trent was athletic but your scenario suggests that he was pretty passive during the murder.

"Nothing in the data suggests that he fought back," Sarah said, flipping through some papers in her clipboard, "wait a second, Trent was sick, and he drank a lot of cough medicine, would he have been too groggy to fight back?"

Bridgette thought for a minute, "Makes sense, the medicine and the cold itself would have slowed his reflexes."

Peyton brought up a point that she had wished to avoid, "Or, if Gwen really was the murderer Trent would never have seen it coming."

Bridgette let out an exasperated sigh, "You know what? I kinda regret mentioning this whole Gwen situation right now."

"This is a murder investigation Doc, we can't rule out anybody. You are going to have to find some way to get that wire for testing."

"Me, why me? Do you have any idea how that would damage my friendship with her?"

"Then you shouldn't have brought it up in the first place!"

Maurecia whistled loudly, "Okay, guys, we're investigating a murder here, there is no time for petty arguments." She turned towards the three scientists in the room.

"Okay, you guys are brainiacs, is there a way to see if the wire was the murder weapon without having the actual wire?"

Peyton considered the question for a moment, "Well if the wire was used for cutting clay originally, I suppose I could swab the hyoid bone to see if there are any clay particles in it, if not, then Dr. B's theory of it being the weapon could be disproven."

"Great, now you two," she turned to a surprised Bridgette and Geoff, "just forget about the whole Gwen situation and get your butts down to the Bureau to question Tracy Daniels, now."

"Right away, sir." Geoff gave a mock salute and started pulling on Bridgette to follow him.

Finally Maurecia turned to Sarah, and smiled smugly "You may be the actual boss, and have fancy doctorates like the rest of these people, but I know how to motivate them."

"Hmm, remind me of that when I consider who gets a promotion," she joked, "now get back to work, you've got faces to recreate."

--

_Back at the interrogation room _thought Bridgette as she and her partner stood face to face with blonde haired, blue eyed, Tracy Daniels, and her Armani wearing, constant suitcase carrying lawyer who referred to himself as Mr. Blake.

Mr. Blake straightened his tie and spoke in a monotonous voice, "To what, does my client owe to this questioning?"

Geoff cleared his throat, not use to the professional nature of this interrogation, "Well, Mr. Blake, your client is a key witness to a murder investigation."

"And by witness we mean it in a very _active_ sense," Bridgette added. Subtlety was not her strong point.

"Look, I didn't know he was married, that's why I kissed him! I am not an adulterer if that's what you're thinking!" Tracy was silenced as her lawyer placed a palm up.

"What my client is trying to say is that unless you have a good motive, the jury's not going to charge her."

"Oh, we didn't come here to accuse Ms. Daniels of anything. We just wanted to confirm some facts her boyfriend, Eddie West told us."

"You mean ex-boyfriend; we broke up about a week ago."

_Okay, so at least the broken up thing is true,_ Geoff thought as he asked her, "And why did you break up?"

Despite her lawyer's expressions, Tracy kept on talking, "Well duh, because of the kiss, and some other differences that we couldn't solve."

"Right, well then, who saw you kiss Trent, besides Eddie I mean."

"Only a few back stage crew members actually saw me kiss Trent in the first place, Eddie and a few other singers came in around the middle of it…"

"Middle of it? Just how long did that kiss last?" Bridgette asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh, don't think of it in the wrong way, it barely lasted a few seconds, Trent broke it off as quickly as he could. What I meant was that when the other singers saw, they all thought Trent was whole heartedly into it."

'And why would they think that?"

"Because, Trent was always a little flirty with the girls, now that I think about it, I'm guessing it was just a way to get more fans and spread the news about him, nothing serious. Anyways, Trent ran off after the kiss and Eddie dragged me out to 'talk' with me, so I didn't get a chance to explain until the next Friday, but Trent was nowhere to be found. I had thought he just didn't want to face the other singers. I mean, he was a great guy, real sweet but he sometimes unintentionally talks during other performances, you know to his fans and talent scouts. It could get pretty annoying I have to admit." Tracy's lawyer had a look on his face that was a mix between, "Thank god she's already paid me," and "Never work with blabbermouths."

"That seems to be the general consensus of the singers there," Bridgette replied, remembering what Jacqueline Ryalls had said.

"Can you name everyone who saw, Ms. Daniels?" Geoff asked.

Tracy thought for a moment, "Well, there were some people that I didn't know, Irma Bixby, the Dolly Parton wannabe, Frank Hoover, Eddie, of course and I think Jacqueline Ryalls.

"Well, thank you Ms Daniels, I think that's all for now."

--

"You know, the FBI should really consider getting more gas efficient cars. I mean, do we really need an SUV?"

"What? Yes we do, we need the SUV to hold all our fancy equipment which helps catch the bad guys."

"What equipment? All you have in the back seat is…well, a back seat." Bridgette said, glancing back to check.

"Yeah, but…I mean, it's just cool looking okay, Bridge! Plus, you're the one with a fancy silver sports car. Which you don't let me drive by the way," Geoff replied.

"It was a gift from Tom, one of my ex-boyfriends. You know the one whose dad owned a chain of restaurants." Bridgette answered back. What she didn't say was that Geoff wasn't allowed to drive her car anymore because he totaled her old one once. Insurance is not cheap.

"You mean the one you broke up with so that he can get that sex-change operation to 'complete' himself…I mean herself?"

"We don't really talk about it anymore. I think her name's Tina now."

"Okay, next topic." Suddenly a cell phone began to ring and Bridgette swiftly picked it up.

"You're on speaker phone.."

"Well, so are you. I swabbed the hyoid bone. No traces of clay anywhere," Peyton said holding it up to look at it with the light by a black desk phone.

"So Gwen's innocent?" Bridgette asked hopefully.

"It doesn't clear her completely but it does make her seem less likely a suspect." The scientist replied, "But now we have to find another different and more plausible weapon, and I have to say, the wire was pretty damn fitting the description."

"Well keep searching for a murder weapon Peyton. Assuming that it was an act of passion the murderer would've used something handy." Bridgette quickly hung up.

Geoff looked slightly confused, "an act of passion? Besides Gwen and Eddie who else would've been ticked off at Trent for kissing Tracy?"

"It could be that the kiss has no part in this investigation whatsoever, it could have been a coincidence."

"News flash, Bridge, there are no coincidences in a murder case."

"Well then I'll have to say that seeing Tracy kiss Trent most likely was the catalyst for the crime. The person most likely misinterpreted Trent as a cheater and this caused enough rage to do something drastic, most likely they didn't intend to kill him, but their emotions got the better of themselves and lost control of the situation."

"Then it'll have to be someone who was close to Trent, Gwen or Eddie, knew about the kiss, as well as misinterpreted it and has some wire like substance easily available to their use." Bridgette pondered all this, playing back in her mind everything that's happened the past two days. Suddenly something just clicked in her mind. She turned towards Geoff.

"I know who did it."

--

Well Bridgette figured it out, DID YOU?

So, unlike the last time where I left you guys dangling for a while there the answer and conclusion is just a click away, I just thought that this was a good place to take a break.


	4. Chapter 4

Here it is: The conclusion…I really did not plan anything else to say here so just read and review okay!

--

"You want to search my flat? What for?" asked a confused Jacqueline Ryalls as Geoff and Bridgette forced their way into her flat.

"Ms. Ryalls we have a warrant that allows us to search your home for anything that could've been used as a murder weapon." Geoff said, as Bridgette, white plastic gloves and all carried her somewhat bulky black kit inside.

"But…but Gwen was my friend." Jacqueline protested.

"Precisely, you were Gwen's friend, and a good friend would get reasonably angry if they saw their friend's husband do a little lip locking with someone else."

"But you took angry to a whole new level didn't you, Ms. Ryalls?" Geoff asked, facing her, and making sure she made no sudden movements, "you said so yourself, you didn't even know that it was Tracy who kissed him first until a while later."

"But…but…" Jacqueline was struggling with her words right now and spotted Bridgette moving carefully to one of her tables, where her guitar and a few guitar strings were laid, " That's just guitar string, I was replacing a broken one on my guitar…what are you doing?"

Bridgette turned around, her ponytail making a slight swish sound as she did, "Oh, do you want a quick lesson in forensics? Well, right now I'm checking it for blood."

"There's no blood, you can see that's there's no stains," Ryalls retorted quickly, walking quickly to where the forensic anthropologist was, with hands outstretched. Geoff stopped her as she got closer though.

In response to her statement, Bridgette held one of the strings up and gently wiped it with a cotton swab. She placed the string down and got a small glass vial containing some kind of liquid from her kit.

"If the liquid turns blue when I stick this swab in, that means that the string came in contact with blood," she explained to not only Jacqueline but Geoff as well. Slowly she did as she had said, and gradually the liquid in the vial turned, sure enough, blue.

"Alright then, Ms. Jacqueline Ryalls, you are under arrest for the murder of Trent Hannigan," Geoff said as he whipped out his handcuffs and proceeded to handcuff the speechless singer.

"But, wait! I didn't mean to, it was an accident, I swear!" She said quickly in a panicked voice, "I mean, I could handle the flirting, and the annoying talking during other's performances up to a 

point, but when I saw Trent and Tracy kissing, I just lost it! Went right over the edge, I had had it with him! I kept thinking about how Gwen would feel…but I didn't want to kill him! I just wanted to scare him, he was bigger than me, I didn't think…"

"He was sick and under medication, he couldn't have fought back," Bridgette snapped back.

"Well, I didn't know! So to scare him I just snuck up on him, with one of my guitar strings and just pulled…But then he started falling forward, and he just… died, okay! But it was felt so peaceful then, it was finally peaceful, no interruptions, no self advertising, no…anything…"she trailed off, leaving only silence in the room as the two investigators eyed each other warily.

--

The funeral was quite nice, granted it was a funeral but it was nice nonetheless. Gwen had insisted that they come along, since they had finally been able to put Trent, his family as well as her at ease. She was still going to stay at Bridgette apartment for a while, just enough time for her to settle in this new, albeit sad life. The service was lovely, Geoff had thought, although he wouldn't really know since this was his first funeral he's attended.

The funeral had long ended, and most of the guests as well as Gwen had gone to their respected homes. Geoff was still at the cemetery, however, looking for his partner, after the service ended she had quietly slipped out, to who knows where. But her car was still in the lot so Geoff decided that she couldn't have gone far. He finally found her, sitting peacefully on a bench placed among the graves, her back facing him.

"You know, this is my first funeral I've ever went to," Geoff said. Not the best conversation starter in the world though.

"Well, lucky you," Bridgette replied, still not turning around to face him. It wasn't a sarcastic or insulting reply; in fact it didn't have much of a pinpoint-able attitude at all.

"This is the third funeral I've been too," she continued, as Geoff approached her, not entirely sure what to say.

'Really? Who were the other two?' Geoff asked, although he had a sinking feeling that he would regret asking it.

Bridgette said nothing, but instead pointed to two gravestones, side by side, close to where she was sitting. He walked up to the graves, and although the epitaph was covered with slowly creeping vines, he could still make out the names: _CHRISTINE ADDY-DODSON_ and _BRENNAN SEELY DODSON. _

"Bridge…are they…" he really didn't want to ask the question, but almost felt compelled to at the same time.

"Yeah, they're my parents: my dad died of cancer when I was five so I don't remember the funeral much. My mom died when I was twenty-three, just a few months after I graduated from university." Geoff silently made his way to the bench and sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, after a moment of silence.

"It's okay; I've learned to accept it. It's a fact of life; all relationships are only temporary, romantic or family. Especially in my case," the last part was said so quietly that if Geoff hadn't been so close he wouldn't have heard it.

"You're wrong," he said, making Bridgette raise her head to look at him. "You may still be the smartest person I know but in this case you're wrong. You're parents are still with you, in your heart, heck, I'm sure that they're proud of everything you've done. And as for romantic relationships, everyone has someone. My dad always said that for every person put on this planet there would always be a perfect someone just right for them. Someone who they'll be happy to spend the rest of their lives with. You just have to find him." With that, he placed a hand on her knee, reassuring her. Although somewhere in the back of his head a tiny voice was hoping that '_maybe she already has._'

Bridgette was quiet for a few moments, thinking about what Geoff had said and staring at where her knee and his hand joined. Finally, she smiled at him, and embraced him in a warm and comfortable hug.

"Thanks Geoff…for just being here for me." While they continued hugging, Bridgette thought about his speech, and while the cynical part of her brain was thinking that it was scientifically improbable that people will gradually find 'the one,' the hopeful part of her was thinking '_maybe I already have_.'

_She's not afraid, she just likes to use a nightlight._

--

How's that for a big fluffy ending, huh? And yes, we will be seeing Gwen again.

Yeah I used the song "Her Eyes" by Pat Monahan for the ending (the same song sung by Trent in the beginning) I thought it was a nice touch.

I also took some artistic license with Bridgette's parents, although, if you look at the website bio, it mentions nothing of her father, just her mother, (very interesting...). The dead parents thing will be an important aspect of the next of this series, The Santa Under the Ice. (Are you kidding us?) No I am not. Still, it'll be a bit more light than this one, despite the dead Santa and everything...

Anyways please drop a nice review, it'll help me get through the hardship that is school.


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